


python

by inverse



Category: SHINee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-01
Updated: 2010-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:10:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inverse/pseuds/inverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>minho is out for blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	python

manchester united loses 3 – 0 to liverpool on sunday night, and minho wishes, no offence, that steven gerrard had broken his bloody leg. it’s the stupidest and rashest bet minho thinks he’s ever had the guts to enter into, and what’s worse is, he’d entered into the bet with none other than jonghyun, who, nice as he normally was, would probably not be objectionable to the idea of humiliating minho openly and publicly. minho can’t blame him. he would be doing the same if he had the upper hand.

“what’s he doing here,” minho says, looking pointedly at kibum. “i thought this was between you and i.”

“he’s assisting me,” jonghyun coughs. “anyway.”

“yes,” minho says warily, conjuring up a mental list of worst-case scenarios that involved kibum being a trusty assistant to jonghyun.

“okay, we’re going to give you a makeover,” jonghyun says as if he gave out makeovers to strangers everyday, “don’t worry, we’ll make you totally pretty and everything. then we’ll take a picture in remembrance. just between the two of us.”

“what kind of a makeover do you mean,” minho asks, but he probably shouldn’t even have bothered, because kibum leaves the room and returns with a black cosmetic pouch. jonghyun leers at minho.

“you guys planned this,” minho accuses. he should have known.

“no excuses,” jonghyun says while kibum pulls out eyeshadows and lip glosses of every imaginable colour. jonghyun leans over his shoulder and points excitedly – “that colour, kibum, that’s pretty” – minho vaguely considers committing homicide, or at least causing grievous hurt.

kibum approaches him with an eyeshadow brush and a palette of purples that oscillates wildly between dainty virgin and screaming slut. “don’t tell me you’re not game for this, choi minho,” he says, brandishing the brush threateningly.

“game,” minho insists. “i am so game.”

 

 

minho isn’t sure if he should believe kibum when he tells minho that he’s in good hands. kibum is kneeling over him, tools in hand and snapping out instructions every five seconds – turn to the left minho, and keep your eyes shut, do you seriously want me to poke your eye out? as much as kibum enjoys dolling himself up at all their performances minho doubts he’s anywhere near being an expert, and he’s sure he looks like an utter mess.

it’s funny, though, minho thinks, how kibum is looking all serious and professional when there’s nothing serious at all about putting clown makeup on a guy for the sake of a bet.

“please tell me i look okay,” minho says, looking up at kibum hopefully.

“you look so pretty,” kibum says, expression unchanging, holding minho’s jaw and smearing dark red lipstick across his mouth forcefully and carelessly. minho can’t even begin to imagine what he must look like, but judging by how jonghyun is doubling over, it must be pretty damn hilarious.

“say cheese,” jonghyun says later, standing over minho, camera in hand. kibum squeezes himself into the frame, flashing a victory sign, obviously pleased with his handiwork.

 

 

no amount of rubbing is making the makeup go away, and as he stands sullenly in front of the sink, admiring his colour-streaked face in the mirror, minho momentarily contemplates the advantages of industrial-strength solvent. where the hell had they gotten the cosmetics anyway, were they bootlegs? the beeswax in the lipstick tastes like ass.

kibum dabs some more makeup remover on his eyelids, and if he used any more force he’d be obliterating minho’s eyeball. “i guess dior meant it,” he says, obviously bemused, “when they said their makeup was long-lasting, huh?”

minho gives him what he imagines looks like a placid smile. “i’m going to kill jonghyun-hyung.”

“i think he’s showing the photograph to taemin right now,” kibum says, moving onto bruising minho’s cheek with cotton wool. minho doesn’t think he’s observed this before, but now that kibum is standing so close, and now that he thinks about it, kibum seems to be almost as tall as he is now, just like how taemin’s suddenly grown more than a couple of inches in the past few years. he doesn’t even need to look down at an angle anymore; kibum’s head is at eye-level. strange how things like these you just don’t notice until they strike you. maybe it’s just because minho is slouching.

“you’re very tall,” minho remarks, “for your age.”

“what are you even on about,” kibum replies.

“no, i meant,” minho hastily corrects himself.

“meant what?” kibum says, and minho closes the irresistible gap between them. or at least, he almost does, tipping forward on his toes and sucking in a shaky breath, but by then his brain catches up with what he’s doing and he shifts his weight back to the balls of his feet. the damage is done, though, because kibum frowns and pauses, his hand on minho’s forehead, as if he knows. 

 

 

there are three reasons why minho almost did what he almost did:

first of all, it was very late at night. he was tired.

secondly, being subjected to a juvenile act of what closely resembled hazing could possibly have had the same effect of messing with someone’s head.

lastly, kibum is very attractive. not that his attractiveness makes him an automatic candidate for someone that minho would want to kiss – to be honest, minho finds a lot of people around him extremely attractive, being in an industry that places physical attractiveness above all else. he doesn’t go out of his way to identify any contenders, though; the thought just crosses his mind once or twice every time he watches some girl groups perform. there was this one time where he – very fleetingly – thought about what it would be like to kiss changmin, although that could be a lingering aftereffect of some form of hero worship. 

but yes, kibum is very attractive, especially when your surroundings are dim and your judgment has somehow been clouded and kibum’s face is about an inch away from your own, and you notice exactly how clean-cut his double eyelids are without all that horrible eyeliner on.

it should be noted that none of these reasons are in actual fact rational manifestations of what minho knows he should or should not be doing, and he reckons that some irrationality is allowed in one’s life from time to time. he is only human, after all.

“what happened last night,” he says aloud in the lift the next morning, as if it were an afterthought, “we should forget about it.”

“i guess we should,” kibum sing-songs, but something in his expression when he smiles slyly at minho makes minho feel uneasy. to his right jinki and taemin exchange glances and break out into a fit of giggles.

“you wish,” jonghyun says, not having the slightest clue what is going on.

 

 

the first step to knowing someone you think you know but obviously don’t is to talk to them. minho thinks talking is great. talking allows you to thrash things out in the open instead of holding onto unnecessarily negative feelings like a passive-aggressive twat, and minho has never really been one for passive-aggressive behaviour. plus, talking is cathartic. sometimes excessively so.

“i wanted to, uh,” he says, taking advantage of the moment when jonghyun and taemin are in the dressing room helping jinki pull on his skin-tight skinny jeans, “talk? about what happened?”

“i hope it didn’t make things between us, well,” he adds lamely, “weird,” and kibum continues to fix his hair in the mirror. dear god, minho prays, nervously hoping that the stylist noonas are far away enough to be out of earshot.

“it’s okay,” kibum says, glancing at minho’s reflection, “accidents happen.”

“oh,” minho says, and can’t think of anything else to add – the conversation has effectively ended. what? minho thinks. it’s over? just like that? it’s a result that he had previously thought unfathomable. it just doesn’t make sense; he gets along fantastically well with many people and is more than capable of holding serious conversations that last more than five minutes. just last night he’d had a half-hour long exchange with taemin about college examinations, which was interrupted prematurely by donghae, who called to ask him if he wanted to meet up for supper over the weekend.

minho clears his throat and tries again.

“if there’s anything you want to talk about,” he says carefully, “i can always listen.”

“okay,” kibum says dismissively.

“we’re cool, right?” minho asks.

“we’re cool,” kibum replies, giving minho a stare that subtly implies that he thinks minho is mentally slow.

“cool,” minho says, partially relieved.

there’s a short lapse during which minho stands around with nothing to do, hands in his pockets, watching one of the stylists come back with hairspray in hand, presumably to attack kibum’s hair with. “i can’t,” he hears jinki yelp from afar, “pull it up –”

“how’s school,” kibum asks.

“great,” minho replies. “i’m very busy, there’s a lot to catch up on.”

 

 

“i’m sorry,” minho begins, “that i haven’t called back for so long.”

“it’s okay,” his mother says over the phone, laughing, “i know you’re busy, we’re all busy. how’ve you been?”

“same old,” minho replies, desperately searching the room for the book he’d bought just last week. now that he actually gets some spare time to read it, it goes missing. “don’t worry about me, i’m doing great. how are dad and hyung?”

he lies down on his bed, pillowing his head with his arm, giving up on his fruitless hunt and opting to listen to his mother talk about his father winning the lottery – nothing big, just a small sum, about a million won – his brother is caught up, as usual, with school. seoul university isn’t exactly a walk in the park. “how is everyone else?” his mother asks in the way only a mother could. “i was watching the telecast last night, onew-sshi looked tired.”

“onew-hyung is always tired, mum.”

“i saw you in the back with key-sshi and taemin-sshi, laughing about something.”

“oh, that.”

“it’s good to see all of you getting along. ah, isn’t key-sshi the same age as you? when is his birthday again?”

minho blinks. “mum,” he says slowly, “kibum and i have always gotten along with each other.”

“hey, is that your dad?” jonghyun announces his arrival as loudly as he can, and minho gives him the stink-eye. “say hi to him for me.”

“uh, yeah, mum,” minho mumbles, “jonghyun-hyung says hi. do you want to talk to him?” 

 

 

the host is taking his own sweet time to announce the winner for this week’s show. minho walks up to kibum’s side and says, “switch off your mic, kibum, there’s something i want to tell you.” he bows politely to the other artistes passing them by, remembering to bow extra deeply to make up for kibum fiddling with the switch on his microphone, and when a girl from some newly-debuted group waves at him he returns the favour.

“yeah, what is it,” kibum says finally, hands clutched together in the semblance of an obedient catholic schoolboy.

“my mum called,” minho says, slinging his arm around kibum’s shoulder, not forgetting to grin at the camera, “she thinks we’re not friendly enough with each other.”

“well, i hope she’s watching this right now,” kibum replies, turning to whisper into minho’s ear, and minho lets him, all the while remembering to keep smiling at the audience like a pro. someone catches his eye and screams. kibum continues, “i had no idea people thought that way, though. your mum, of all people. you mean we should look friendlier? do we need to?”

minho cups his hand over kibum’s ear as the winner is announced, and he thinks the screaming girl might pass out in a couple of seconds. “you know what,” he says, “i’m not sure,” and kibum pulls away from him slowly and laughs, eyes narrowing into slits. what kind of a response is that? god, minho thinks, kibum probably couldn’t be any faker if he wanted to be.

jinki sticks his head in between the both of them. “what are you guys talking about?” he asks. “let me in on the joke?”

“fanservice,” kibum replies, “fanservice is good, right?”

kibum starts making eyes at jinki, and minho takes a deep breath. he couldn’t have been that transparent.

 

 

“this,” kibum explains, staring at minho, “is my attempt at getting to know you better.” just a few seconds ago kibum had planted himself in the seat across minho at the dining table, where he was trying very hard to concentrate on reading his textbook, highlighter in hand. 

minho stares back at kibum. “truth or dare isn’t fun with just two people, kibum.”

“i don’t need to know anything else about anyone else in this house,” kibum says.

“can we do just truth,” minho suggests after considering kibum’s proposal. “i’m not in the mood for dares right now,” he lies. truth be told, he’s not sure what kind of stupid things he might just make kibum do. even worse, he’s not sure what kind of stupid things kibum might just make him do, and stupid things of this nature often have serious and long-lasting repercussions.

kibum shrugs. “okay, sure.”

“can i start?”

“yeah.”

“what brought this on?” minho asks, sitting up straight in his chair.

kibum answers after hesitating for a second. “what you said about what your mum said yesterday. i thought about it, and i felt like she was right in some way? why does this even need to be a question, choi minho, i don’t just do this for anyone on the street, stop wasting time on stupid questions.”

“fine,” minho concedes. “your turn.”

“what,” kibum asks, “in your opinion, sets me apart from the rest of the members?”

minho is stumped. he didn’t expect kibum to ask such a personal question right off the bat, and if he says anything wrong he is probably going to be treading on thin ice for days.

“uh, i think,” he says eloquently, “that you’re very honest. not to say that the rest of us aren’t honest or anything, but you say what you mean if you think it’s important and even if it gets offensive sometimes, and i think all of us really value your opinion. did i get that right?”

“that’s such a textbook answer, minho,” kibum says flatly, visibly disappointed.

“i guess it would be great if you were less argumentative sometimes,” minho adds.

“i have the same problem with you,” kibum replies, “i liked you better when you weren’t annoying,” and minho thinks that maybe he could have afforded to be nastier with his answer.

 

 

the only thing on television worth watching at 2 a.m. is a rerun of arsenal vs. aston villa, and while minho knows arsenal won 2 – 1 from reading the morning papers he figures it’s better to watch it than to spend another hour eyeing the dark insides of his comforter, which he just spent the last hour doing. taemin is still in the study room scribbling furiously in an exercise book when minho turns the television on, and minho tries to persuade taemin to watch the match with him to no avail.

“real men watch football, taemin,” he says, beckoning to taemin from the door.

“real men are real men regardless of whether they watch football or not, hyung,” taemin says, not even bothering to look at minho. “i’ve got two questions to go before i can finally sleep.”

kibum chooses that inopportune moment to appear from his bedroom to go to the toilet, and taemin blurts out as soon as he hears the door opening, “there, you can ask whoever just woke up.”

“i’d rather not, thanks,” minho says, mostly to himself, trying to conjure the mental image of kibum cheering on a football team and failing miserably.

ten minutes later minho finds himself trying to explain why aston villa was awarded a free kick to kibum, who’s sitting next to him on the couch nursing a mug of warm water in his hands.

“don’t underestimate me,” kibum says, sipping from his mug, “i know what the offside rule is.”

“don’t even,” minho laughs, “don’t even pretend you know the first thing about football.”

it’s an hour into the match and both teams are tied 1 – 1, passing the ball up and the down the pitch, desperately looking for a chance to score. arsenal are looking pretty good, minho thinks. now if only they would stop losing possession. “which is the better team,” kibum chips in, and minho automatically says, “the red team.” he adds, “i’ll buy you their jersey if you like them.”

“whatever,” kibum says in response. nasri attempts to pass the ball to chamakh, but is prevented from doing so by a well-timed tackle.

“you know what my greatest fear is,” kibum says suddenly. minho turns to look at him, and his eyelids are drooping and his vision is unfocused. to the casual observer it’s obvious that he isn’t even paying attention to the match, and may very well fall asleep in seconds with his eyes open. he continues, speech slightly slurred, “my greatest fear is having someone doodle on my face when i’m asleep. or knocked out, whichever. i’m afraid that one day someone is going to draw all sorts of things on my face with permanent marker, and when i wake up and look in the mirror just when i’m washing my face i will find that it’s covered in all sorts of obscene drawings, and i will recoil from myself in shock and fear.”

“what,” is all that minho manages to come up with.

“i’ll tell you something else,” kibum says, obviously not of sound mind any longer, “way back when we were still trainees, i had a crush on jonghyun-hyung for about a month. it was stupid, and only because i thought he was cute.”

that’s not particularly surprising, minho thinks. he pauses, and then asks, out of curiosity, “what about me?”

kibum turns to meet his gaze and squints a bit, his eyes barely open now. “i think you’re pretty swell,” he says finally. “you’re slightly better than jjong these days. but only slightly.” then he slumps over and falls asleep on minho’s shoulder.

minho turns back to the television just in time to see fabregàs slide the winner home with a deft flick of his foot, and the crowd’s cheering sounds like a long, continuous squeaking with the volume turned down low. arshavin runs after fabregàs, his face contorted with joy, and for some reason minho feels terrifyingly vindicated.

 

 

a)

when grilled hard enough jonghyun will break down and cry and admit that no, it wasn’t him who came up with the stupid idea to take a photo with minho wearing makeup just because manchester united didn’t quite recover after a night of boozing and careless cavorting, but yes, it was his fault that the photo itself had spread like wildfire and everyone knew, i am so sorry minho, please spare me. “it wasn’t you?” minho will ask, and jonghyun will exclaim, tearfully, “it was kibum,” and minho will find kibum and paint his face upside down and sideways, even if kibum turns out to like it, because if he were going to be the mastermind behind everything, he had bloody well take some responsibility.

b)

or maybe he didn’t plan it after all, in which case minho would have to make up a silly excuse involving his mother and a phone call in order to gain some leverage, and kibum, being the sensible and mature person he is, will act upon minho’s words. thereafter their relationship will improve by leaps and bounds, hopefully without anyone else interrupting the process.

c)

perhaps minho could even try to bridge their differences by introducing more commonality into their friendship. football is a universal language, and minho seriously thinks that if he tries – if he just tries – kibum will be speaking the jargon in no time, instead of just watching uninterestedly whenever minho and taemin duke it out, one-on-one, on the playstation and offering to make tea whenever he can’t take the mundanity any longer. it won’t even matter which team kibum picks in the end, because ultimately minho watches the sport for the skill, and any discussion is good discussion. they will go out on their free days and minho will drag kibum into a nike flagship store, or adidas, whichever one, and minho will pick out the jersey of kibum’s favourite team and throw it at him and insist he buy it. “i’m just a casual fan,” kibum will protest, “and besides, this is oversized and ugly and unfashionable and no one’s going to wear it out into the streets, minho.” nevertheless minho will pay for it before kibum can put a word in edgewise, and kibum will have no alternative other than to wear the jersey to bed as part of his pyjamas, seeing as it serves no other practical purpose because it is so oversized and ugly and unfashionable. every single night.

d)

none of the above.

 

 

“you said truth or dare wasn’t fun with two people,” kibum says, “so we’ll have a special guest today.”

minho looks up from where he is doing the dishes, his hands covered with foam – it’s his turn for kitchen duty today – and kibum is dragging an annoyed-looking jonghyun his way. “look, seriously,” jonghyun is saying, trying to escape from kibum, “i’m busy, i actually have something to do, okay? why don’t you guys just sort this out yourselves or something –”

minho sighs and rinses off another plate. “kibum, can’t this wait?”

“oh, i see how it is,” kibum says. “fine, i know you could care less, go back to washing your dishes, minho, doing the dishes is really important.”

that has got to be some form of emotional blackmail, minho thinks. “jonghyun-hyung,” he asks, starting on drying the plates, “truth or dare?”

“i can’t believe you’re making me do this too,” jonghyun huffs, detaching himself from kibum’s death grip. “truth, then.”

“what do you think is my most attractive feature, hyung.”

“haven’t we gone through this before,” jonghyun snaps. “you’re tall and ridiculously good-looking, and i think your big, round eyes express your charismatic personality in a way that none of your other features can. next, please.”

minho stifles back a laugh as he dries the last of the dishes, making sure to wipe it clean.

“that’s not fair,” kibum says, “you totally went easy on him.”

“well, in that case,” minho says, sensing a trap, “you can dare me to do anything you want. since it’s so unfair.”

kibum folds his arms and leans against the kitchen counter, seemingly taking minho’s words into serious consideration. minho makes a show of washing his hands while kibum thinks, and jonghyun interrupts the silence by saying, “there’s a conspiracy going on here, right? and i’m the only one who doesn’t know what it is, right?”

“kiss him,” kibum says finally, nodding towards jonghyun, his tone imperative, as if he’s sure that minho would back off from the challenge.

“yeah, right,” jonghyun snorts, “minho’s not going to do that. right, minho?”

“come here, hyung,” minho says, drying his hands on the tea towel.

“what,” jonghyun sputters, eyes wide, and minho stalks up to him despite the look of abject horror on his face. he pulls jonghyun towards him by the shoulders, and leans over at an angle to plant a big, wet smooch on jonghyun’s left cheek. he stays in position for about two seconds, before jonghyun recovers from the shock and pushes minho away, wiping his cheek repeatedly with the back of his hand, as if his dignity has been sullied and he will never be clean again for the rest of his life. “eww, minho,” jonghyun wails, “how could you have done that, i’ll never be able to get married now –”

“you enjoyed it, don’t lie,” minho says, looking right at kibum, who appears absolutely displeased at the outcome. 

 

 

things remain relatively boring and peaceful until minho receives a message from eunhyuk a week later while taking a break from filming a variety show:

>   
>  _all that makeup really doesn’t go with your haircut, minho._   
> 

minho has his suspicions regarding what eunhyuk is talking about, which are confirmed by kyuhyun’s message, sent in quick succession:

>   
> 
> 
> _nice lipstick._  
> 

“was it you,” minho asks, approaching jonghyun and kibum, who are bent over jonghyun’s phone and giggling over something. he’s not going to beat anyone up or anything; he just wants some confirmation.

“was it … what,” jonghyun says, looking at kibum, and kibum looks away shiftily.

“oh, i get it now,” minho says, slightly surprised that jonghyun wasn’t the culprit, and even more surprised that he was more offended than he should have been in the first place over something as childish as someone passing around photographic proof of the results of a stupid bet. “what the hell, kibum, you could have at least told me.”

“why are you even offended,” kibum retorts, his expression petulant. “i was merely talking to someone about it, and they wanted to see, so i let them take a look. it’s not my fault they sent it out to other people, okay?”

“so you knew,” minho replies drily, completely uninterested in finding out who kibum was talking to in the first place.

“i’m not going to apologise, end of story,” kibum says. “i don’t even know why you’re so annoyed.” and neither does minho, but even if he shouldn’t be annoyed it doesn’t mean that he can’t be. the pd announces the end of the break, and afterwards jonghyun sits in between the two of them, question marks loud and visible over his head.

dinner that evening is disastrous. minho ends up sitting directly opposite kibum, and at one point in time they manage, miraculously, to set their chopsticks upon the same piece of kimchi. neither will let go, even though the plate is full, and kibum steps on minho’s foot under the table while looking at minho serenely. minho returns the favour, and it soon escalates into a violent game of footsie without any of the affection involved, until minho bangs his knee on the underside of the table, and it feels like his kneecap is about to split into four separate pieces. jinki looks up from his bowl and frowns.

“are you guys fighting?” he says disapprovingly. “fighting is very bad for our morale as a team. why don’t we air it out into the open? it’ll be good to have everyone’s opinions on the matter.”

“we’re not,” minho grits out, “fighting,” and kibum has the decency to keep his mouth shut.

 

 

“jonghyun-hyung,” minho says, carefully wandering into uncharted territory as they turn a corner into the main street, holding onto both their shopping bags like a thankless yes-man, “do you know what kibum’s greatest fear is?”

“kibum?” jonghyun says, too busy eating to consider minho’s words seriously. “kibum isn’t scared of anything. he scares other people.”

“i’m not,” minho struggles, looking for the right words. “okay, deep down, he has to be afraid that something might happen to him, right?”

jonghyun chews thoughtfully on his ddukbokki. “don’t tell anyone,” he says with his mouth disgustingly full – minho can see everything that’s going on in there – “he’s actually a big softie inside. kind of like a hedgehog, you know? prickly on the outside and everything. i think he’d be gutted if anything happened to his friends or family more than if anything happened to him. remember the time his grandma had a huge fall the month before our debut? he cried for the whole afternoon. only i know this, of course. which is why i said, don’t tell anyone.”

minho ponders silently over this new bit of information as jonghyun continues chewing, and bows to a couple of old ladies who are very obviously and unabashedly staring at the two of them from the inside of a fruit store.

“so,” he tries, “he isn’t scared of anyone doodling on his face with permanent marker or anything like that?”

“are you crazy,” jonghyun replies. “he’ll strangle the first guy who does it.”

“why are you even asking me this,” he asks, and minho tells him, “just curious.”

 

 

“you’re not angry?” kibum asks.

“no,” minho replies.

“you’re really not angry?” kibum presses on, still suspicious.

“really, no,” minho says, giving kibum his best impression of a resigned smile.

 

 

it’s late when minho sneaks into kibum’s bedroom to exact his timely revenge. he stands outside the room, checking if anyone’s in the vicinity before going in. he teases the door open when he’s sure that it’s all clear, its hinges making the slightest of creaks, and kibum seems to be out cold already when he enters, sharpie marker in hand.

he crosses over to the far end of the room, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, seeking out the faint outline of kibum’s bed. he nearly trips over several pieces of clothing strewn over the middle of the floor, and if he were more like jinki he would have fallen flat on his face. luckily, he’s not. kibum is sleeping on his side, just so that the left side of his face is facing up, and not his whole face, which would have been ideal. minho will take what he can get, anyway.

carefully he removes the cap on the sharpie, and the smell of the alcohol hitting his nose is sharp and pungent. he sniffs at the marker again, which is, he thinks, the first of several warning signs that he’s truly about to go mad. he prods kibum in the side for good measure, just to make sure that kibum is really asleep, and kibum shifts slightly in annoyance, but doesn’t wake up. minho begins to move the marker over kibum’s face, remembering to draw gently. kibum likes lady gaga, right? here, minho will draw a lightning bolt just for him. he adds in a couple of other squiggles for good measure.

he’s nearly done when kibum stirs and turns to give him a groggy stare, and minho quickly hides the sharpie behind his back. “mmh,” he says. “who’s this? minho? what the hell are you doing.”

“just checking up on you,” minho replies, using his free hand to push back kibum’s bangs. “are you running a temperature? you didn’t look so well at dinner just now.”

“i’m okay,” kibum mumbles. “just tired. i’m fine, thanks.”

“what are friends for, kibum,” minho says genially.

when he emerges from the room jinki is kicking off his sneakers at the door, having just returned from filming his variety show. minho gives him a “hey, hyung,” and turns the corner to get back to his bedroom before jinki can even respond. 

 

 

minho is going through his second helping of cereal when taemin wakes up, stretching all the way to the kitchen.

“hyung,” taemin says, rummaging through the fridge for the milk, “you’re up really early today.”

“is that so,” minho replies, picking out the pecans in his bowl.

taemin takes his seat next to minho at the dining table and begins to eat. they go through their schedule for the day and minho lets taemin complain a bit about having to go on star king again and faking all those ridiculous expressions, when kibum saunters out of his room and into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. taemin gapes.

“morning,” kibum says.

“morning,” minho tells him, clapping a hand over taemin’s mouth.

five seconds later there is a bloodcurdling scream, and the sound of jinki falling out of his bed and crashing onto the floor is loud and audible.

“choi minho, you fucking bitch,” kibum yells.

“oh my god, the nerve of you, hyung,” taemin says, putting two and two together. “i can’t believe it, you’re dead meat.”

“i can’t believe it myself either,” minho says.


End file.
